


This way madness lies

by fictocriticism



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Dalton Academy, First Kiss, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictocriticism/pseuds/fictocriticism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Kurt goes to Dalton but this time Sebastian's there as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to Alana for reading this over for me. All remaining mistakes are obviously mine. Also, thanks to some lovely tumblr friends who were willing to help me with American plays. Apologies for the over-use of Shakespeare.

Kurt snuck in to the back of the classroom as quietly as possible. He had a slip from the headmaster, excusing his tardiness, but he hoped he wouldn't have to use it. Luckily, the teacher had his back to the class while he wrote on the whiteboard. It was a list of dates, detailing the events leading to World War II and Kurt was already familiar with most of it. Not from McKinley, of course - they'd never bother with European history there. But he liked to read and there's something incredibly fascinating about war and the way an individual can wield so much power. He particularly liked to read about the concentration camps sometimes, imagine the horrors the people went through and the way the country was encouraged to close the windows and blinds and step away. It left him with a tenseness in his stomach and stinging eyes, but he read and absorbed everything he can.

  
When he asked the old lady at the library if they had any books on Hitler, she raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips in a way that made her look even more haggard. Kurt watched the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes get more pronounced and followed her along the shelves until she pointed out the section.  
  
"It's not nice to read about, dear," she said then, and her lips gentled into something more like concern.  
  
"I know," Kurt replied simply.  
  
People assumed a teenager shouldn't be interested in death. But then, he'd watched his mother wither away until she resembled someone from a concentration camp, and no one could stop her dying either.  
  
So when Mr Brandt asked why Germany was having such economic problems during the Weimar Republic, he didn’t even think before his hand is up in the air. Before he could pull it back down, horrified at himself for volunteering information, the teacher looked at him questioningly.  
  
"Yes, Mr...?"  
  
"Kurt Hummel, sir, I just started. And it's because they decided to solve their trouble by just printing more money, which in turn created significant inflation issues."  
  
Mr Brandt nodded once.  
  
"Correct, Mr Hummel. Very good."  
  
Kurt let out a sigh and buries his head back into his papers. It wouldn't do to set such a precedent at Dalton. He wanted to fade away, like wallpaper.  
  
***  
  
That night, he looked around his sparse dorm room (a single for boys who transferred for 'extenuating circumstances') and decided it would do. It had none of the flair of his room at home, but keeping it bare would allow him to maintain his distance. He wasn't here at Dalton to settle in. He was here to get by, quietly, until he could get out of Ohio at the first possible moment.  
  
His cell rang and he picked it up without checking the number. It was his dad. It was always his dad.  
  
"Hi dad."  
  
"Hey kiddo, how's your new place?" His dad's voice was soothing and comfortable, like the old blanket Kurt kept in his closet at home. He only brought it out when he was feeling particularly lonely, and he suddenly wished he'd brought it with him to Dalton.  
  
"Not bad for a junior," he replied, keeping his tone light.  
  
His dad chuckled and Kurt felt his chest loosen just a little for the first time all day.  
  
***  
  
The problems started after his first English class. They were studying _Hamlet_ , and Kurt was quietly thrilled. McKinley had never bothered much with Shakespeare; he once remembered a teacher rolling in an ancient television to watch the new _Romeo + Juliet_. The boys cheered whenever someone died and the girls just talked up the back about Leonardo DiCaprio. Kurt appreciated Leo for his command of the language as much as his boyish charm and watched, rapt, at the way he seemed to infuse every line with a meaning beyond the literal.  
  
It wasn't long afterwards that the taunts began.  
  
But Mr Cooper didn't wheel in a television and sit at his desk to grade papers. Instead, he led them through the play, forcing boys up to read sections in awkward, stilted voices. Kurt hunched down in his seat, three rows back, but to no avail.  
  
"Mr Hummel, isn't it?" Mr Cooper asked, his enthusiasm palpable. Kurt nodded.  
  
"Right, up here if you please. You'll be reading Hamlet. And uhh, let's see, Mr Smythe? Ophelia, if you will."  
  
"Ophelia?" came a smooth voice from the back row, and Kurt watched as a boy unfolded himself to a surprising height and walked to the front.  
  
"I don't think I look like an Ophelia," he said, the smirk on his face wide. "But he does."  
  
A couple of boys tittered and Kurt's jaw clenched so hard he could hear his teeth grind.  
  
"Sebastian," Mr Cooper said in a firm voice. "At an all boys' school, we must play around with gender roles. Need I remind you that this was originally acted with all men?"  
  
Kurt seethed. Sebastian. He looked like a meerkat, Kurt thought savagely. He'd prefer to look like Ophelia than look like that.  
  
"Okay boys, we'll take it from Act III, Scene I - at Ophelia's entrance. Now, remember class, this is when Ophelia begins to see the madness in Hamlet. Is Hamlet acting here? Is this the beginning of his descent into true madness? I will be asking questions afterwards, so pay attention.  
  
Sebastian, you may begin."  
  
Kurt stood stiffly, his eyes trained on his book. He wouldn't be surprised if this idiot didn't know a thing about Shakespeare. Regardless, he needed to just get through this and then return to his desk and disappear once again. No one needed to know he even existed. Especially not Sebastian.  
  
"Good my lord. How does your honour for this many a day?"  
  
Kurt startled just a touch at the confident way Sebastian handled the line.  
  
"I humbly thank you, well, well, well."  
  
"My lord, I have remembrances of yours that I have longed long to re-deliver. I pray you now receive them."  
  
Sebastian came closer, gesturing as if holding out something and the movement caught Kurt's attention. He met Sebastian's eyes briefly, long enough to see the clear intelligence glittering. He was smiling, softly now, such a difference from his snark, that Kurt blinked in question. It wasn't until Sebastian repeated his gesture faintly, pushing his hand out just a little further, that Kurt got it.  
  
Sebastian was _acting_. Really acting. Apparently he _did_ know Shakespeare.  
  
Kurt quickly looked back down and carried on with his next line.  
  
"No, not I. I never gave you aught."  
  
"My honoured lord, you know right well you did..."  
  
Kurt tuned out a little and let the cadence of Sebastian's voice flow over him. Sneaking a glance at the class, he saw the majority following along with their plays, but one boy, up the back, was watching them. No, watching Sebastian, he realised. The boy's curly hair was unruly and his blazer managed to look messy and somehow personalised despite being part of a uniform. The boy's eyes were dark, a deep brown, and kept close to Sebastian's form as he moved as Ophelia.  
  
They continued on for a few more lines, Kurt starting to feel it now, feel Hamlet's rage and confusion, feel the incessant need to carry on with his plan.  
  
"Get thee to a nunnery," he began, and he let the words emerge through him in a way he hadn't done outside of his bedroom. He leaned in to Sebastian, pushed himself into his space, let the frustration bubble over into his lines. "We are arrant knaves all. Believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery."  
  
Kurt drew breath, ready to hear a noise and look for Polonius, when Mr Cooper stepped in with slow applause.  
  
"Well done boys!" he said, and encouraged the class to clap along. Kurt's eyes met Sebastian's briefly and he deliberately ignored the thudding of his pulse before he darted back to his chair, ignoring the pounding blood in his veins. Once down, he fiddled with his collar, ran a hand over his hair, and hunched down once more.  
  
The class plodded through a discussion of Hamlet's mental state and even though Mr Cooper called on him a few times, Kurt kept his answers minimal, refusing to expand on his thoughts. Mostly he remained staring at his desk and tried to ignore the feeling of two sets of eyes on the back of his neck.  
  
***  
  
After that, Kurt found he couldn't stay invisible. A boy came up to him after class and asked if he had done any acting. He appeared not to notice Kurt's flushed cheeks and instead gave him the details for the Drama Club that met every Wednesday and encouraged him to come along. Kurt only realised afterwards that he didn't even ask the boy's name.  
  
A lanky boy found Kurt in the library one afternoon and asked if he played any sports, because he had noticed that Kurt was really quick and they needed some more people for cross country. Kurt's eyebrows couldn't get any further up his forehead, but apparently Luke wouldn't take no for an answer and suddenly Kurt found himself standing out on the field at some awfully early hour on Saturday to join the first meet of the cross country team.  
  
Kurt took to running in a way he had never considered. Always conscious of his clothes and appearance, he surprised himself by not caring that he ended up all sweaty at the end of it. And then he found that he really took to the silence and the distance, letting his body take over. The mindless thump of one foot hitting the ground after the other let his brain zone out from its hyperactivity, allowing for a peace he couldn't previously remember.  
  
After a couple of weeks, he was considered one of their fastest runners, and Kurt had something to tell his father on their regular phone calls.  
  
Suddenly Kurt's spare time was far more limited than it ever had been, between drama and cross country. He found himself having to spend more time in the library doing homework than reading up on particularly gruesome plane crashes or environmental catastrophes. He found he didn't mind all that much.  
  
It was in the cafeteria one night, when Kurt managed to slide in just before it shut, that he came across Sebastian and the curly haired boy he now knew was called Blaine. The pair of them were sitting next to each other in one of the tables tucked into a corner, their shoulders pressed together tightly. Their table was empty and they weren't talking. Instead, Blaine was scribbling on a piece of paper and Sebastian was typing on a laptop. It looked incredibly, well, _domestic_ and Kurt found he couldn't look away.  
  
They moved smoothly within each other's space, Blaine shifting to accommodate Sebastian's elbow when necessary and Sebastian occasionally peeking at whatever it was Blaine was writing. The were so mismatched: Blaine was easily a head shorter than Sebastian and rough around the edges, whereas Sebastian's lithe body was neat and clearly ordered. They didn't touch inappropriately and Kurt didn't know what they were. He didn't know if they knew. They just orbited around each other in some strange, undefined dance.  
  
It wasn't until the noise of the cleaning staff filtered through his consciousness that he realised he'd barely touched his food. Kurt rolled his eyes at himself and headed back to his dorm.  
  
That night he dreamed of sailing, the boat pitching up and down on the waves over and over until he woke, gasping and nauseous.  
  
***  
   
It was about three weeks before their finals when Mr Cooper called him and Blaine Anderson to stay behind briefly after their double English. Kurt didn’t know what was going on but he nodded quickly and packed his things away neatly, slipping his pens into their proper place. Blaine, on the other hand, slung a bag over his shoulder and threw his notes in carelessly as he made his way to the front of the classroom and perched on one of the desks. _He’s reckless_ , Kurt thought, and then wondered idly if he owned any leather jackets to complete the look. A modern day James Dean. Is he as likely to burn out too young?  
  
Mr Cooper finished tidying his papers and then came round to lean against his desk, eyeing the two boys in front of him. Kurt can’t help but fidget under the scrutiny, still unaccustomed to being noticed, singled out. Blaine’s fingers sketched shapes on the desk; he appeared to be not paying attention at all, but Kurt thought there’s a tightness to his eyes that suggests he is, in fact, keenly waiting for more information.  
  
“Blaine, you’re in serious danger of failing this class.”  
  
Kurt startled at this, just a little, enough to dislodge his bag from where it was tucked against his chair leg and he leaned down to settle it. As he straightened, he risked a glance at Blaine, seeing his eyes still downcast, apparently ignoring Mr Cooper completely.  
  
Mr Cooper sighed noisily. “Mr Hummel, I wondered if you would tutor Mr Anderson?”    
  
Kurt felt his eyes widen obviously and Mr Cooper’s lips twitched.  
  
“Just for an hour a week. I don’t think he can pass the unit if he carries on.”  
  
“I’m actually here,” Blaine said snarkily, and his eyes flashed like a wounded dog.  
  
“I, uh, I can do that. If Blaine wants to,” Kurt said, and he thought he saw Blaine bite his lower lip.  
  
“Excellent!” Mr Cooper said, all false energy, and ushered them out the door after establishing they’ll meet in the library later that night after dinner.  
  
Blaine cursed under his breath as he walked away, without a glance at Kurt, and Kurt found himself watching him stride away down the hall, tracing the way he moved unobtrusively through the crowds of school boys. Kurt’s eyes watched him until he can’t see the boy at all anymore, amazed at how he managed to stand out even when he’s clearly trying to stay invisible.  
  
For the first time, Kurt wondered if perhaps they had more in common than he thought.  
  
***  
  
They met in the library as planned. Blaine was sullen, clearly frustrated at being forced out of his comfort zone. Kurt opened the text in front of them and guided Blaine through the questions, pointing out passages that were of importance.  
  
“This is so stupid,” he said at one point and Kurt rolled his eyes.  
  
“Blaine, it doesn’t matter what you think. You’re getting graded anyway, so you are just going to have to deal with it.” Kurt’s voice sounded less patient than it could, but he was tired now, and still had his own homework to finish.  
  
“I just don’t understand why Hamlet’s so angry anyway. So what if his father died? Nothing he can do will bring him back.”  
  
Kurt paused at that. He thought of long nights in the hospital, watching his mother sleep in the body that no longer looked like it fit her, and asking what he could do to make it better.  
  
“Anything, dad. I’ll do anything.”  
  
His dad had patted his head, wiped his own eyes, and said, “I know, son. I know.”  
  
Blaine tore the corners of his notepaper into pieces.  
  
Kurt took a deep breath and said, “Nothing can bring his father back, no. But maybe he just felt better for trying. Grief makes people strange.”  
  
Blaine’s jaw clenched and he slammed the book shut. He stood quickly.  
  
“Goodnight,” he murmured and loped away.  
  
Kurt stared down at his own notes, where he has written: _Hamlet, mad?_  
  
With a sigh, he started working on his own homework. Blaine’s face, closed off and tight, flicked through his mind. By the end of the night, Kurt had memorised all the dates he needed for his history exam, and had decided that Blaine was traumatised by something in his past.  
  
He was less willing to admit that he wanted to trace patterns across his shoulders and thumb gently across his lush eyelashes.  
  
***  
  
Kurt settled into a routine of sorts. Blaine was still snarky, although more likely to open up on every second week, and eventually Kurt succeeded in winning his confidence and he delighted in the tiny, rare smiles he received.  
  
Just as things with Blaine were smoothing out, Kurt’s life took another turn for chaos when he walked into his Drama Club meeting to find Sebastian Smythe draped artfully across one of the desks.  
  
“Kurt, there you are,” he said, the smarm apparent in his voice from the other side of the room. “I’ve been just pushing my idea for a school play next term. What do you think?”  
  
One of the boys was staring at Sebastian with poorly concealed longing and Kurt wanted to spin on his heel and walk straight back out. He’d spent at least a fortnight trying to convince their president that a school play would improve their standing within the academic program and one successful performance could encourage the faculty to provide more resources for another. He had even left out the part where he wanted to eventually perform a musical.  
  
“Sebastian suggested a Shakespeare play,” one of the other boys said, darting his gaze quickly to check for Sebastian’s approval.  
  
“ _Julius Cesar_ , darling,” Sebastian said and the endearment made Kurt’s skin crawl. “You’d make such an excellent Calphurnia.”  
  
Kurt felt the rage building in waves, like an incoming high tide that just continued to rise. He had proposed Julius Cesar for its significant male cast that would only require minimal gender play. Dalton was a little traditional, so he had even suggested a selection of scenes rather than the whole play.  
  
He had no idea how Sebastian had known, but he was going to kill him. He wanted to wrap his hands around that delicate throat and press until he could see the indentations of his thumbs in his skin. He wanted to leave marks that would be visible above the collar of his blazer and ruffle his hair until he look debauched and out of place. He wanted to rip that button-down open just to have Sebastian looking anything but pieced together.  
  
Kurt blinked as his thoughts spiralled beyond control.  
  
“How obscenely heteronormative of you, Sebastian. Are you always this obvious about your gay hate behaviour?”  
  
Then, he spun on his heel and exited in the dramatic fashion he’d always said he would avoid after McKinley.  
  
Fuming, he went to the library and threw his books out onto the first empty table he could find. He raged his way through half the essay required for geography before realising he would have to rewrite it anyway.  
  
He slumped, exhausted, and folded his head onto his arms.  
  
Why did Sebastian needle him so much? He hated it, _hated_ the way he made him feel, all torn up and messy. His much needed control was simply shredded into non-existence.  
  
He was so unbalanced that he didn’t even notice Blaine slipping into the seat across from him.  
  
“You okay?” he asked, his gentle voice warm and starkly different to his usually insolent tone.  
  
Kurt looked up and caught his gaze, gripped almost immediately by the intensity of his eyes.  
  
Kurt nodded. Blaine kept looking at him. His chest tightened and he exhaled noisily.  
  
“No, I’m not,” he said.  
  
Blaine tilted his head, questioningly, and suddenly it all came pouring out. Sebastian and his ability to just render him useless within five seconds of being there, and why was he even at Drama Club anyway, he has other hobbies, why does he have to encroach on Kurt’s? If he has such a problem with gay guys maybe he should just leave him alone.  
  
When he finished, he was breathing heavily.  
  
Blaine’s gaze never wavered and Kurt snapped before he could help himself.  
  
“What?” he said, his voice much higher than he wanted, making him sound desperate and frustrated.  
  
Blaine’s brow furrowed marginally.  
  
“Sebastian’s gay,” he said. “And so am I.”  
  
Kurt felt his stomach churn. “So why would he...?”  
  
Blaine shook his head, eyes tightening a little as he raked them over Kurt’s figure.  
  
“I don’t know,” he said, hesitatingly enough that Kurt knew without a doubt he was lying.  
  
***  
  
Kurt spent Saturday in the library. Usually he’d go home for weekends, but he pleaded homework and studying for finals so Burt agreed to missing just this one family dinner.  
  
At lunch, he pulled some snacks from his bag and read the book he’d found on survivors of air crash disasters. He was feeling the soothing effects of reading other people’s stories when Blaine dropped into the chair opposite him.  
  
Startled, Kurt’s first thought was panic.  
  
“Are we supposed to meet today? I’m so sorry, Blaine, but I haven’t prepared anything!”  
  
He shoved the book closed and dove into his bag for his English book. At least he could improvise. Blaine stopped him by grabbing his arm, the heat of his hand stilling Kurt’s movement.  
  
“No, no,” he said, laughing. “It’s not about English.”  
  
Kurt straightened back up, eyes flickering to where Blaine was still holding onto his arm, a pinpoint of contact just above his wrist.  
  
“I just thought--,” here he paused, and ran a hand through his messy curls. Kurt couldn’t hide the fact he was drinking in the sight of Blaine in casual wear, his jeans fitted but not tight, a t-shirt stretched taut over his chest.  
  
“I thought I’d say hi?” Blaine finished awkwardly, and Kurt noticed the slight flush in his cheeks.  
  
Kurt swallowed, probably obviously, and let his cheeks twitch into the smile he usually hid from Blaine.  
  
“Hi,” he said softly. Blaine’s fingers were moving on his arm now, just gently stroking back and forth. Kurt deliberately kept from looking so Blaine wouldn’t realise and then stop.  
  
The sensation gave Kurt courage.  
  
“So, you’re gay then?” he asked, aiming for nonchalant.  
  
Blaine nodded, biting his lip. “I--, uh, I wasn’t out at my last school,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t have to be.”  
  
Kurt frowned at the bitterness in his tone.  
  
“When did you come to Dalton?” he asked, realising that Blaine was a transfer student like him. Maybe he was _really_ like him.  
  
“At the start of freshman year.” Kurt felt the way Blaine paused, censoring his story. He recognised the signs in the way only one experienced can. “I was encouraged to come to Dalton by my parents,” he said, and the twist of his mouth told Kurt all he needed to.  
  
“My dad used up his savings to send me here.” Blaine’s candour made his own admission easier. “I was having trouble at my old school,” he said, words careful and cautious.  
  
Blaine nods quickly. Then, as if he needed to build himself up to it, he rolled up the sleeve on his t-shirt, pulling the fabric out so it exposes his collarbone. Kurt gasped as the movement revealed a scar.  
  
“Me too,” Blaine said, and his eyes were the clearest Kurt had ever seen them.  
  
“That’s not just trouble, Blaine,” he said, his heart thumping painfully at the version of Blaine being unravelled in front of him.  
  
“No,” Blaine responded, his head tilting a little in that familiar way as he takes in Kurt’s countenance. “Not just trouble. But then, it never is.”  
  
Kurt suddenly couldn’t bring himself to meet Blaine’s eye anymore. Instead, he looked intently at the table, studying the uneven grain in the wood.  
  
“Mmm,” he murmured, and felt Blaine’s hand glide gently over his once more. Blaine waited until Kurt’s breathing returned to normal before slipping away with a quiet goodbye, leaving Kurt trying desperately to quell the desire to cry.  
  
***  
  
When Sebastian walked in the door to their next Drama Club meeting, Kurt physically clasped his hands in order to stop gesticulating wildly before storming out. Instead, he breathed deeply and looked pointedly at everyone else in the room rather than make eye-contact.  
  
He got through the meeting, tiny crescents on his palms the only reminder of the tenseness of his body. He was the first to leave and he nearly made it to his dormitory before Sebastian caught up with him.  
  
“Hey Hummel!”  
  
Kurt gritted his teeth so harshly he feels them wrench painfully and turns around to face his tormentor.  
  
Sebastian came sliding to a stop in front of him, ridiculously graceful despite his height, and Kurt just _hated_ him for it. He certainly didn’t watch how Sebastian’s a little flushed just under his jaw from the exertion, didn’t let his eyes rest on the skin just above the collar of his blazer.  
  
“Happy with the choice?” Sebastian asked, smirk comfortably in place.  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes.  
  
“We still have to wait for Mr Cooper to agree. He may insist on _Our Town_ , or something equally hideous.”  
  
Sebastian snorted. “There’s no way I’m doing that play.”  
  
“You might not get a choice,” Kurt said. “Now, if we’re done here, I have to get to practice.”  
  
“That’s right,” Sebastian said, voice silky, “you’re on the cross country team, aren’t you? How lovely.”  
  
He took a step forward, which Kurt instinctively matched back towards the wall. He felt his heart sink when he hit the wall behind him. Sebastian’s body was caging him now, and even though Kurt _knew_ that his body’s reaction was unreasonable, it didn’t stop his breath quickening until he was almost panting and his eyes flickering side to side looking for an escape route.  
  
“You’ve got good legs for cross country, don’t you, Kurt?” Sebastian drawled, and raised a hand as if to trace along Kurt’s cheekbone.  
  
The blood in his veins was pumping furiously now, thrumming through his body in classic flight response. He let out a strangled cry and pushed forward, shouldering roughly past Sebastian and breaking into a run down the hallway. Feet pounding loudly, too loudly, in the hallway but he wasn’t far now, not far from his room. He ran past the grandiose staircase but it meant nothing - his eyes weren’t seeing Dalton anymore. Instead, this was McKinley, a locker room, and Sebastian was Karofsky, and his hand on his cheek was soft and _vile_ , revolting. His breath was ragged, and Kurt could feel the tears begin to fall as he burst through his dorm room door.  
  
He crossed quickly to the bed, kicked off his shoes, and slid under the blanket, letting his body curl up on itself until his knees were nearly touching his chest. _This isn’t McKinley_ , he told himself. _He’s not Karofsky_.  
  
A knock on the door startled him, but he didn’t get up.  
  
“What the fuck, Kurt?” Sebastian’s voice was low, confused, angry? He couldn’t tell. He could barely hear anything over the ringing in his ears.  
  
“Go away,” he whispered, nowhere near loud enough to carry. “Go _away_.”  
  
Sebastian knocked one more time and then walked away, his footsteps clacking neatly.  
  
 _He’s gay too_ , Kurt reminded himself. _And people know_.  
  
 _He can’t be outed._  
  
 _I’m safe._  
  
***  
  
He dragged himself out of his cocoon for cross country practice, and ran his frustrations out. He tuned out of the real world and instead just let his body go, enjoying the isolation and time for introspection.  
  
Kurt thought most clearly when out on the grounds. It was easy to remember that he was at Dalton out here, away from teachers and hallways. There’s no way McKinley would ever have grounds this big, with ancient trees and that one natural amphitheatre set up a little way from the bleachers.  
  
Out here, Kurt could remember that he was not alone and scared anymore. He had left that place far behind and that _Kurt_ far behind. And although Sebastian rattled him, with his forwardness and casual approach to personal space, he wasn’t looking to punch him for evoking ‘the gay’.  
  
Two gay boys, both beautiful and damaged in their own ways. Kurt’s thoughts shifted with every pounding of his feet from Blaine to Sebastian, back and forth. The aggressive forwardness of Sebastian so carefully contrasted to Blaine’s restraint. By the time Kurt was on the final stretch, he was seeing them intertwined again, in the cafeteria, in the library, sitting up the back of the classroom.  
  
In Kurt’s bed.  
  
The thought had Kurt gasping harder than warranted from the physical exertion. All he could think of was tanned skin alongside pale, short and compact alongside lithe and slim. Hands on hands, skin on skin, mouths on mouths.  
  
For the first time in his life, Kurt used a shower in the locker rooms to jerk off quietly, head against the wall while he thrust sharply into his fist.  
  
  
***  
  
The next few weeks were torturous. Drama Club became auditions and readings, and Kurt wanted to be more disappointed when he was cast opposite Sebastian. Instead, he found himself watching the other boy intently, drinking in the way he slid into another character. His smirk, so patently Sebastian, disappeared under the cloak of Brutus and Kurt couldn’t stop staring. Their forced proximity was frustrating, and Kurt spent hours recovering in the library, poring over history books and memoirs of natural disasters. He liked the stories of displacement the most, people losing their houses, towns, families.  
  
Blaine continued to be a calming presence in the library, quiet and peaceful despite his roughened appearance. Their encounters were gentle, brushes of fingertips over passed books, unlike Sebastian’s constant pushing of boundaries. Kurt found himself frequently buzzing, body thrilling from anticipation. He found himself wondering when things would break, when he would be cornered and confused, betrayed by those from whom he never expected it. On those days, Kurt had no trouble emoting Cesar’s lines.  
  
It came to head at the end of term. Blaine's grades improved enough to pass English, in fact, enough for a B. Sebastian decided, the night before the exam when he was harassing Kurt and Blaine in the library, that they should celebrate his boy’s success. Sebastian’s arm was thrown over Blaine’s shoulders, his eyes soft and fond and Kurt felt his heart clench in the familiar way when confronted with the pair of them together like this. He gnawed gently on his bottom lip and agreed to whatever Sebastian was saying.  
  
It was a small party, in Sebastian’s dorm room one night. There’s a few boys there, some Kurt recognised from Drama Club, others he’d never seen. He took the cup pressed into his hand on arrival and poured the alcohol down his throat, lips curling at the unfamiliar burn.  
  
Kurt found himself tucked up against the edge of Sebastian’s bed, legs spread in front of him. He felt loose, more comfortable than he had for months, probably since before McKinley. He let himself be captured into a lengthy conversation with Jeff, the boy who first introduced him to the Drama Club. He liked the way Jeff’s fringe fell into his eyes when he ducked his head. He liked the way Jeff’s gaze lingered on his legs whenever he shifted them. He liked the way their fingers brushed when he proposed a cheesy toast.  
  
Mostly, he liked how thinking of Jeff managed to briefly distract him from where Blaine and Sebastian were lounging on top of each other on the other side of the room. They were pressed side to side, arms linked and Blaine’s legs crossed over Sebastian’s. It looked domestic, comfortable, and Kurt knew that it was something they did all the time. Their heads were close together, low murmurs reaching to where Kurt sat. If he strained hard enough he almost felt like he could hear his name.  
  
Apparently Blaine and Sebastian had even more of a reputation than Kurt realised, because it isn’t long until people were trickling off. It was only when Jeff tugged gently on Kurt’s arm (and he refused to think about the way his skin barely reacted to his touch), asking him if he wanted to leave, that Kurt realised it was just the four of them left.  
  
“Um, I--,” he started, eyes flicking to the pair across the room. Jeff’s eyes followed, and his mouth quirked into a sort of smile that Kurt didn’t like the look of at all.  
  
“I get it,” Jeff sighed, and with a quick squeeze to Kurt’s arm, he was gone.  
  
Kurt just stayed still, unsure what just happened and unwilling to think about it too deeply. Instead, he leant his head back on the mattress and let his brain meander drunkenly.  
  
He didn’t open his eyes again until he felt sudden heat next to him. It was Blaine, sitting facing him with his legs crossed and his hands on Kurt’s knee.  
  
“Kurt,” he said, and Kurt blinked himself to attention, shifted to get blood moving in his legs again.  
  
“Mmm?” he murmured woozily.  
  
“Have you ever kissed a boy before?” Blaine asked, and his voice was breathy and sincere in a way Kurt hadn’t expected in all of his fantasies. And Kurt could still feel the alcohol in his system and he felt looser than ever, so he didn’t see the point of lying.  
  
“No,” he said. “I mean, it, uh--, well, yes. But not willingly. And he hit me after.”  
  
Instantly, Kurt was horrified at letting it slip, at _telling_ when he promised he wouldn’t, couldn’t. But Blaine just stroked his knee with one hand and the other cradled the back of his neck. He was frowning slightly, and Kurt realised this was so close to home for both of them, too close, and Blaine’s face was more reactive than Kurt has ever seen.  
  
But before he could mumble something out and escape, Blaine crawled into his lap, resting the back of his thighs on Kurt’s and it was hot and intimate in a way unlike Kurt had ever experienced in life.  
  
“Would you _like_ to kiss a boy?” Blaine asked, huskily this time, and he lowered his weight gently into Kurt’s embrace.  
  
Kurt nodded and then they were kissing, surprisingly gently and it was heady and beautiful. Kurt felt his body relax, just unclench, and Blaine’s hands cupped his face. He inhaled sharply through his nose and that’s when Sebastian pulled roughly on his shoulder, dislodging the kiss.  
  
"What the fuck?" he spat, and Kurt quickly realised Sebastian’s angry, but he didn’t know why. Because he kissed Blaine?  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, and he didn't like the broken sound of his voice, the way he sounded just like he did after getting hit in the face by a meaty first. Sebastian's hand left a point of heat just about his shoulder blade and Kurt felt it like a brand.  
  
"I thought you wanted me," Sebastian said, and the words were quiet, devoid of the usual mockery. Kurt's jaw sagged open and he felt Blaine's hands on his shoulders and then he was surrounded by this pair of boys, awkwardly but so real. He felt intoxicated and not just from booze.  
  
Blaine looked up at Sebastian then, guarded but not harsh, yet still a look unfamiliar between these two. Sebastian seemed to realise whatever Blaine was trying to convey, and he shifted uncomfortably and looks away.  
  
The tension was palpable and Kurt was so distressed at causing it that he couldn’t stay anymore. The room felt cloying and he needed to get out, just get out of there, and suddenly he found himself standing and at the doorway.  
  
"I'm so sorry," he whispered.  
  
But his hand was stopped before he could even turn the handle and Sebastian's holding him there, not letting him leave.  
  
"Please," he said pleadingly, in a tone so unlike anything Kurt had heard from him before. Sebastian never asked for anything, and it was more than Kurt could do to deny him now. So he turned, slowly, and looked back into his face. Blaine got to his feet as well, just behind Sebastian, and Kurt saw them both so open and genuine and keenly interested and he could feel it like a blow to his chest.  
  
"I can't choose," he said, the words coming out hesitatingly. "Don't make me choose."  
  
It didn’t even make sense, but his heart was pounding and his head was throbbing like he had just thrown up on his guidance counsellor's shoes and he needed it to stop before he imploded.  
  
Then Blaine stepped forward, one hand on Sebastian's elbow and the other grabbing Kurt's free hand. They were both there, grounding him on either side, and he felt his eyes drawn to where they met in the middle, hand to elbow. Blaine ran his fingers along Sebastian's bicep then, up until he reached his shoulder. He pulled gently until Sebastian looked at him, hot and uncertain, and Kurt watched and waited, not sure what was unfolding before his eyes.  
  
Blaine's gaze was intense and his fingers slipped until his arm was around Sebastian's waist, the other hand still on Kurt. Then they were embracing, one armed and awkward, but tight and so beautifully and lovingly that Kurt felt almost embarrassed to be watching. He dropped his head and hoped they couldn’t feel his hands trembling.  
  
Then Sebastian's voice interrupted his breakdown.  
  
"We can share," he said lowly. “It might help us stop fighting over you anyway, seeing as that’s all we ever do.”  
  
Kurt's head whipped back up and he found himself face to face with the two of them, one arm loosely wrapped around each other while they lifted their hands up to Kurt's face. Blaine slipped his to the curve of Kurt’s neck, stroking the skin there gently and Kurt just knew he was red and flushed under his touch. Sebastian used his hand to lift Kurt's jaw just enough to stare directly into his eyes.  
  
"Will you share with us?" he asked, and Kurt let out a little gasp that has both of their hands tightening on his jaw.  
  
He thought, briefly, insanely, of Hamlet, worrying for his sanity. Has his own thoughts generated this obscene parody of a boarding school orgy? He blinked, and the madness faded, leaving behind two boys, intertwined and comfortable, both looking at him with clear eyes and open hearts.  
  
"I can share, please," he replied, trembling and shaky. Blaine grinned and huffed out a little breath, anxiety obviously spilling out of his skin. Sebastian was more forward and leaned in quickly, licking his way into Kurt's mouth immediately. Kurt moaned at once, overcome, and it only got worse when he felt Blaine's hand cup his jaw. When he broke away, he could see Blaine's other hand was on Sebastian's jaw in a mirror image, Blaine staring at them both with an eager, bright look that seems so out of his place on his usually dark and sheltered face.  
  
It is only then that Kurt realised this wasn’t just about sharing, although that was probably the best part. This is about making themselves better, stronger together. Making all of them better for and with each other. This wasn’t about Hamlet or Ophelia, or Beatrice and Benedick, or some other Shakespearean love story. Instead, it's some of the strongest characters coming together. Beatrice, and Katherine, and Viola, Kurt thought wildly, better than their men and magnificent when combined.  
  
He resolved to tell Blaine and Sebastian all about his Shakespearean fantasies one day. But for now, he allowed himself to sink into the embrace of these two boys, and regained an equilibrium he never knew could be recaptured.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief scene that takes place directly after the end of the story.

In a lot of ways, nothing changed. Kurt still pounded his frustrations out using his feet in cross country training. He still helped Blaine with his English homework in the library. Sebastian still riled him up in drama club, on a regular basis.    
  
But there were differences. For instance, Kurt was allowed to link his ankle around Blaine’s under the heavy table in the back corner of the library. He could drop a kiss to Blaine’s palm in celebration of a particularly insightful response to a question. Sebastian’s teasing was underlaid with a heat previously hidden, his eyes glinting dangerously when Kurt was particularly powerful in a scene.    
  
They sat together in the cafeteria now. Kurt didn’t wrap himself around the other two quite so comfortably in public -- the McKinley incident had left its scars. But he let Sebastian run his hand over his shoulder, grip his bicep gently, and didn’t call him out when his eyes never left Kurt’s lips. Blaine was better at keeping it low profile -- a skill learned from experience -- so people rarely noticed the barest of touches when their hands brushed in the hallways, the way Blaine occasionally dropped notes in his open satchel.    
  
Kurt’s favourite time was at night. His single room became a haven for the three of them, curled around each other on his bed. He liked to pull their ties loose and let himself look at the skin of their necks. Blaine loved their bare feet and forced an immediate removal of socks. Sebastian just aimed for nudity whenever and wherever possible, and much of the night was usually spent warding off his meandering hands.    
  
They frequently landed with Blaine in the middle, greedily drinking up the love offered to him from both sides. Kurt and Sebastian would content themselves with their hands meeting over his body, fingers brushing while they absorbed the heat of Blaine’s stomach, his skin always warm beneath them. They didn’t have sex -- at least, not yet. Kurt wanted so badly to wrap himself up in these boys, lose himself in the warmth and love they were offering. But he was still nervous sometimes; he couldn’t always stop himself from flinching if Sebastian grabbed him a little roughly, or Blaine snuck under his arm when he wasn’t watching.    
  
Sebastian and Blaine had refused to take things further until they were sure he wanted to be there, despite his pleas for more when they settled in front and behind him on the bed, hips jerking futilely for more pressure.    
  
“Soon, baby,” Sebastian would breath against his neck, while Blaine nuzzled under his jaw. “Soon.”   



End file.
